


A Sense Of Belonging

by Suzie_Shooter



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Anal Sex, Belonging, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fingerfucking, M/M, Multiple Partners, Oral Sex, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 08:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1259296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written as a follow up to episode 5, The Homecoming and for a kinkmeme prompt of "Porthos is feeling lonely or isolated for whatever reason, and the others decide to remind him that he has a place with them. Lots of Porthos getting fucked, which is really what he wants of all things, and the others making sure he's very happy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sense Of Belonging

When Porthos had followed the others out of the Court of Miracles he'd been in reasonable spirits, expecting that with every step the weight of the last couple of days would ease, and the shadow of his past would lift again. To his consternation and quiet dismay, it seemed only that the further he went, the tighter the feeling became of being caught in a snare he'd once thought to escape.

When they reached the barracks, and Treville announced he was officially in the clear with all paperwork and signatures in place, the others had slapped him on the back and offered to buy him a drink.

Porthos, to their surprise, had shaken his head and taken his leave of them, walking alone back to his lodgings. There, he sat on his bed, and looked around the room with a solemn face. 

The contents of the room, modest though they were by some standards, could have paid for food and clothing for any number of those he'd abandoned. 

Porthos shook his head, cross with himself. He hadn't abandoned anyone. He'd bettered himself. He'd earned every stick of furniture, every morsel of food in the place. He no longer had to steal to survive.

That made him think of Flea, and he wondered what she was doing. 

Then he thought of Charon, dead and cold, and punched the counterpane in useless grief. 

His thoughts turned to Aramis, who'd dealt the death blow in defence of him. With Aramis came the image of Athos, the two inextricably linked in his mind. They were probably in some tavern by now, well rid of him. Perhaps D’Artagnan would be taking up the third seat. 

Porthos closed his eyes in something close to pain. He'd never felt more keenly that he was a man caught between two worlds, and perhaps belonged in neither.

The rap at the door made him jump. Porthos got up with a frown. If his landlord had the temerity to choose this moment to demand his rent after all he'd been thorough, he was going to throw him down the stairs.

Porthos hauled open the door in a thunderous mood, then baulked in surprise. Squeezed together at the top of the narrow steps leading to his chambers were Athos and Aramis. 

Aramis held up a bottle of wine and waggled it invitingly. 

"As you wouldn't come for a drink, we thought we'd bring the drink to you," Athos explained.

"Aren't you going to invite us in?" Aramis asked with a smile.

Porthos gave a choked half-laugh, struggling to find suitable words. They pushed in past him anyway and closed the door.

"Glasses?" Aramis asked, then spied them on the sideboard. "Ah!"

While he was pouring for the three of them, Athos held out something else. 

"You left in such a hurry, you forgot this," he said quietly. Porthos looked. It was the leather pauldron, symbol of his rank as a Musketeer, that had been ripped from him in the courtroom.

Porthos was ashamed to see the hand he reached out to take it with was shaking slightly. Athos caught it between both of his, just for a second, and pressed his hand warmly.

"We never believed it. Not for a second," he said. He'd said it before, more than once, but still wasn't entirely convinced Porthos believed him, and it was important to Athos that he did.

Porthos nodded, once, and looked Athos in the eye. "Thank you." It hardly seemed adequate, but Athos nodded back, just as briskly, and Porthos sensed Athos could hear the words he left unsaid.

Then Aramis was there with the wine and a smile, and Porthos smiled back, and if it was a little sad at the edges then it only made the arm Aramis threw around him squeeze all the tighter.

They settled in chairs before the fire which Aramis insisted on laying and lighting despite the warm weather, knowing it would cheer the room, and managing to cover half his face in soot smuts in the process, catching Athos' eye with a knowing wink when Porthos finally allowed a laugh to be coaxed out of him.

They drank the wine that Aramis had brought, and then they drank the wine that Porthos had laid by, and by the time they'd made inroads to the brandy all three were sitting on the floor with their backs to the settle, feet toward the fire, and leaning against each other, Porthos in the middle.

Porthos gave a heavy sigh, staring into the flames, and Athos looked sideways at him. They'd talked of inconsequential things this evening, but he could tell deeper lures kept tugging at Porthos' thoughts.

Silently, he covered Porthos' hand with his own. Porthos turned slowly to look at him, and managed a ghost of a smile.

"You know, I was a good thief, once," Porthos murmured distantly.

Athos held his gaze. "And now you're a good thief-taker. People change. It's not where you come from that defines who you are. It's what's in your heart."

"I thoguht I could go back," Porthos said, looking down into his drink. "For a moment. But I was wrong. I don't belong there. Maybe I never did. Maybe I don't belong anywhere."

"Well, that's just not true," Aramis told him. "You belong with us. And so you see, if you moved back to the Court we'd have to follow you, and that would be a true tragedy, because I've seen those hoods they wear, and they would never go with my hat."

There was a second of silence, then Porthos burst out laughing. 

Smiling, Aramis refilled his glass. There was something on his mind too, and he knew he had to say it but was hesitant of puncturing Porthos' moment of happy amusement.

Porthos though downed his drink and blinked a little sleepily at Aramis. "I don't blame you, you know. For what you did. You were protecting me."

Aramis stared at him with grateful eyes, realising Porthos knew he'd been worrying about it. He nodded and lowered his head in guilty contrition. 

"I'm sorry, Porthos. Charon was your friend."

Porthos sighed. "He set me up."

"Doesn't mean you can't mourn him," Athos said quietly. 

Porthos looked at him a little bleakly. "They were my family once. When I didn’t have any."

"And now you do," Athos said gently. He leaned forward and kissed Porthos on the mouth, warm and soft, both a reminder of times that had passed between them, and a promise of things still to come.

Porthos felt Aramis touch his shoulder and looked round with a smile. Aramis kissed him in turn, with rather more tongue.

"Welcome home," Aramis whispered.

\--

"There's something you should know."

They were on the bed by now, brandy bottle lying empty on the rug, and stripped down to their shirts and undergarments.

"What is it?" Athos kissed his way along Porthos' jawline, and Aramis slid an arm around his waist from behind, fingers brushing against Porthos' crotch with more than idle curiosity.

"I spent last night with Flea," Porthos confessed, a little defensively.

Athos tilted his head philosophically. "Is that a problem?"

"As long as she's more hygienic than her name suggests," Aramis put in, and Porthos glared at him. He held up a hand in immediate apology. "I take that back, and apologise unreservedly, that was in bad taste."

Porthos relaxed a little. "You don't mind?" They'd never laid out rules to this thing they had between them, but he suspected if positions had been reversed, Flea would probably have kicked him out of the bed if not the house.

"Of course not," Athos shook his head. 

"Unless you want us to?" Aramis said mischievously. "Because if you particularly wanted it, I'm sure we could muster up a fit of jealous passion between us and teach you a vigorous lesson."

Porthos' lips twitched and Aramis grinned back at him with considerable satisfaction.

"Tell us what you want," Aramis whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

Porthos looked between them and gave a slow smile. "I want you to fuck me."

"Which of us?" Athos asked, unlacing Porthos' shirt with a slow pleasure and letting his fingers trail down his chest.

"Both of you," Porthos said. "One hard, one slow. Don't mind which."

Athos and Aramis exchanged a look, and nodded imperceptibly to one another. They knew what Porthos needed right now was to be touched, held, made to feel loved. Fucked, yes, but more than that. To be made to feel he belonged to them. And they were more than ready to oblige.

With unhurried pleasure they stripped Porthos of the rest of his clothing, pausing frequently to press kisses to each new plane of flesh they uncovered. 

Freed from the confines of his undergarments, Porthos' cock stood to attention in the best military manner, and Athos wasted no time in offering it due reverence. Kneeling on the bed, he took him into his mouth with a sigh of appreciation. 

Taken by surprise, Porthos laughed in approval, grabbing a handful of Aramis' shirt to combat the urge to seize Athos by the hair. Aramis kissed him deeply, eyes closed, letting his fingers trace the familiar lines of his face, rediscovering him by touch alone.

Athos sucked down with slow deliberation, enjoying the way Porthos was still thickening in his mouth. He dragged blunt nails up the inside of Porthos' thigh, smiling around him as he heard Porthos groan into Aramis' mouth. It had been a while since he'd done this, a while since the three of them had spent a night together in fact. They should never have left it so long, he thought. 

Aramis had stripped off his shirt by now and was curled against Porthos' chest, kissing and caressing every part of him he could reach. He let his tongue run along the curve of Porthos' ear, briefly sucking the earring into his mouth, the metal cold on his tongue. He played with it for a second before letting go, kissing his way down the line of Porthos' jaw, then back up to trace the line of the scar over his eye, first with his fingers, then with lips and tongue.

Porthos laughed, low and affectionate, letting his own hands roam over Aramis' body with greedy delight. 

"Are you two going to fuck me or just drive me mad?" he growled eventually, their teasing explorations making him crave a firmer touch.

"That's fighting talk," Aramis whispered into his ear, making Porthos shiver.

Athos sat up, lips spit-slick and swollen, and Aramis couldn't resist leaning over to kiss him. 

"You want to toss a coin for it?" he asked, smiling.

Athos shook his head. "Be my guest."

Aramis grinned, and they lost no time in shucking off the last of their clothing. He slid off the bed and went to fetch a little oil with which to prepare himself, while Athos kept Porthos occupied with fierce kisses.

"Porthos. Come here." Aramis had returned to the bed, and Porthos crooked an amused eyebrow at Athos in response to the peremptory tone. He did as he was bid without argument though, eager to find out what Aramis had in store for him.

"I want you bent over the bed," Aramis directed, and Porthos' eyes gleamed with anticipation. He wasted no time in adopting the position Aramis indicated; his feet braced on the floor, knees slightly bent and resting on the bed frame, the rest of him leaning over the mattress and propping himself up on his elbows.

Aramis touched Athos on the arm. "I'm going to be rough," he murmured. "Make sure he's alright?" 

Nodding his understanding, Athos took up a position on the bed in front of Porthos, who grinned up at him.

Aramis moved closer to stand between Porthos' splayed legs and let his hands come to rest on his buttocks, squeezing appreciatively and making Porthos rumble with laughter.

"Get on with it man, what do you think I am, garden produce?"

Aramis smirked. "Well, you asked for it." He used his thumbs to spread Porthos open and pushed up against his hole. Glancing up to satisfy himself Athos was keeping close watch on Porthos and would be able to warn him to stop - for he suspected Porthos wouldn't - he steadied himself with a hand round his cock and pushed forward.

He took it slowly at first, mindful that they'd spent no time preparing him. Aramis was slippery with oil and Porthos was no virgin, but there was no sense inflicting needless pain. Not when they wanted this to last a long time yet.

Athos, sprawled on the bed, watched with a mixture of amusement, arousal, and tender concern as Porthos visibly gritted his teeth and tensed his muscles. His eyes were comically wide and he was breathing heavily through his nose, but his grunts were of approval and encouragement, his cock harder than ever.

When Aramis was buried to the balls in Porthos' hot, clenching body he paused for a second, letting Porthos acclimatise to being filled. He kept half an eye on Athos, who finally looked up and nodded assent that Porthos was happy.

With Porthos' request to be fucked hard in his mind, Aramis set about doing exactly that. He slowly pulled most of the way out and then, without warning, slammed back in as brutally as he could.

Porthos made a noise that further down the line would have had Aramis coming on the spot. He repeated the action, gripping Porthos round the hips and thrusting in as hard and as deep as physically possible.

Porthos was being driven roughly against the bed by the force of Aramis' strokes and Athos moved closer, bracing him with his body. Porthos looked and sounded like he was in heaven, groaning loudly with uninhibited pleasure as Aramis fucked him hard and fast. 

"Touch me," Porthos pleaded hoarsely to Athos after a while, who realised that in his current position Porthos could hardly do it himself. He moved round and slid underneath him, legs splayed out around Porthos' hips so they were chest to chest. Porthos' cock was now pressed against Athos' own, and he reached down between them to grasp him firmly. 

Porthos gave a heartfelt moan as Athos' hand closed around him, throbbing with need. Aramis was still pounding into him from behind, hard enough to make both Porthos and now Athos rock beneath the thrusts. 

Porthos, filled from behind and with Athos jerking him off in front, was practically seeing stars. He tried to warn Athos he was going to come but the words failed him, and as Aramis gave a particularly vigorous thrust he came explosively all over Athos' chest. 

Once Porthos had come Aramis let himself follow suit, and with considerable relief let himself lose the control he'd been holding. He spilled into Porthos' body in a hot rush that left both of them groaning, before pulling out  
carefully and sagging to the bed beside him.

Athos pulled Porthos all the way onto the bed and held him close.

"Sorry about the mess," Porthos mumbled, grinning tiredly. Athos shook his head and kissed him. 

"I'll get my revenge, don’t worry." He rolled Porthos over into Aramis' arms, and reached for the oil Aramis had set by. His own cock was achingly hard, having had Porthos first rutting against him and then ejaculating all over him. Ordinarily he'd have given Porthos time to recover before taking him a second time, but didn’t think he'd last.

Porthos, occupied with kissing Aramis, felt Athos move up to press against his back, and the nudge of a cock between his legs. He growled with pleasure and lifted his knee, giving Athos a better angle. 

He was already open and wet with Aramis' release but Athos fucked him first with his fingers, making Porthos squirm and groan and think that he might just be able to get hard all over again. Athos knew exactly how to make him fall apart, exactly where to press and stroke and tease, and by the time he was ready to swap his fingers for his cock, Porthos was almost whimpering into the bedclothes.

Athos slid inside him slowly, starting up a gentle, rhythmic thrust that Porthos knew from experience the bastard could keep up for ages.

Aching and turned on and crushed between the two of them, Porthos hardly knew which way was up. He was definitely getting hard again, equally from the slow burn of Athos fucking him so soon after Aramis, and from the kisses Athos was laying against the back of his neck and Aramis, lying half underneath him, was pressing to his lips. 

Athos fucked him for a long while, taking his time, until his stamina was finally spent. He spilled heavily into Porthos' body, his seed mingling with that of Aramis, leaving Porthos with wet thighs and a feeling of absolute fullness.

Porthos too had come a second time, encouraged by Aramis' hand and Athos' skilful fucking, drained to the last drop, his eyes dark and limbs shaking.

Afterwards they lay either side of him, Porthos sandwiched happily between them. They'd cleaned him up, finding him too far gone to do it himself.

"How was that?" Aramis whispered, pressing a kiss to Porthos' collarbone.

He looked from Aramis to Athos and gave them a dazed smile. "Thank you. Both of you." He wrapped an arm around each of them and pulled them closer, laughing. "You are the best of men."

"And you are very dear to our heart," Aramis murmured, laying his hand on Porthos' chest where he could feel the pulse of him through his fingers. Athos reached out and laid his own hand over Aramis', and Porthos laughed and covered them both with his own. 

"You'll both stay?" Porthos asked, wanting nothing more than to know he would be able to fall asleep with them pressed against him, and wake up with them still there.

"Of course." Athos settled lower in the bed, resting his head against Porthos’ shoulder. Opposite, Aramis blew out the candles and arranged himself along Porthos' side, arm across his stomach. His hand brushed Athos', and they let their fingers tangle together in the dark, holding Porthos between them.

They'd set out to show Porthos he was loved and needed, but the evening had equally served to remind Athos and Aramis of the same, binding the three of them closer than ever. 

The room was pleasantly warm and heavy with the scent of sex, and they drifted into sleep with a sense of sated contentment. 

\--


End file.
